


Vanity

by Snortinglaughter



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Oblivious Harry Potter, Pining Draco Malfoy, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-28
Updated: 2018-02-28
Packaged: 2019-03-25 01:38:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13823745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Snortinglaughter/pseuds/Snortinglaughter
Summary: Harry finally gives in to Hermione's nagging and buys a vanity desk for his nearly empty flat. It turns out it's not just any vanity, but a very feisty, dramatic and very bitchy one.





	Vanity

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spiral_cellar](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spiral_cellar/gifts).



> Happy birthday Lee! This is my gift to you. You're so awesome and so cool and so amazing and so sweet. I love you gurl! ♡
> 
> Thank you so much to [restlessandordinary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/restlessandordinary/pseuds/restlessandordinary) for betaing and for being so supportive. I love you!
> 
> I wrote this in, like, half a day, so any remaining mistakes are entirely mine.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

“I don’t know Hermione, I’m not much of a mirror person,” Harry said, scratching the back of his neck.

“Of course you need a mirror,” she argued. “Besides, you can’t call ‘home’ a flat where there’s only a bed and a beach chair.”

Harry had moved into his new place a month ago and, despite Hermione’s insistence that he needed to add a few items, he liked it just the way it was, _thankyouverymuch_.

“Why not? If I want to sleep, I’ll go to my bed and I can eat there too. Crumbs? No problem, I can eat on my beach chair and, if I’m feeling sassy, I’ll sunbathe beside the window… _starkers_.”

“That…” Hermione pinched the bridge of her nose and exhaled heavily. “Is not an image I wanted to have in my head, thanks.”

“You’re very welcome.” He grinned and winked.

“Ugh,” she blurted. “Listen, there’s an auction next weekend, it’s for a good cause; a charity for kids in foster homes. You can buy something— _anything_ —and help some kiddies on the way.”

Hermione knew how to get to him; Harry would never refuse to help a charity. He rolled his eyes and sighed.

 _“Fine,”_ he said, dragging the ‘i’. “Where and when?"

 

* * *

 

Harry was determined to buy something; he took it as a challenge to find anything _useful_. He’d sat through the auction of a property in Knockturn Alley, a collection of rubber ducks from Arthur Weasley, a water bed with live fish, an old record player, a box with signed copies of Celestina Warbeck’s records and several other objects that hadn’t held Harry’s interest.

He thought he wouldn’t find anything to bring back to his flat, until the auctioneer flicked his wand and announced the last item of the evening, donated anonymously: a white vanity desk that had an oval mirror, three drawers on each side and one in the middle.

It wasn’t too large nor too small, Harry could picture it perfectly in his bedroom; Hermione had suggested a mirror after all.

Thirty minutes later Harry Apparated back to his flat with a brand new vanity, reduced inside his pocket. Once restored to its original size, he levitated it to the wall facing his bed and Summoned a few of his belongings from the trunk at the foot of his bed, carelessly splaying them in the top drawers. One of the bottom drawers was jammed, but Harry didn’t care; he didn’t have much stuff to put in it anyway.

Harry looked at his reflection in the mirror and raked a hand through his hair. He froze, inhaling sharply as he realized that the mirror – the mirror was _trembling_.

Oh sweet mother of Merlin, did he just buy a cursed object? He quickly drew his wand out and took a step back, pointing it at the vanity, ready to blow the fucking thing up. Harry narrowed his eyes as the mirror seemed to inflate before him and he gripped his wand tighter, but then it returned to its normal state, sagging a bit as if…

“What the fuck.”

Harry knew about magical mirrors with talking reflections, about closets that could be spelled to hand you a bunch of clothes, but he’d never heard of furniture that _sighed_. He performed a few spells on it and ended up frowning as none of them revealed anything ominous.

“Alright, guess I’ll have to trust you then.”

Harry walked backwards to the door, watching the vanity as he left the room. He returned after a quick lunch at the food truck a street away and was pleased to see that everything was just as he left it.

“I’m going to take a shower now,” he said loudly.

Harry felt like an utter pillock; he was honestly hoping to get a response from the damn piece of wood. He took his time undressing in the bathroom, keeping his wand close and expecting the vanity to jump in and attack in any moment as he showered, but it didn’t.

Harry walked to his trunk, with his towel wrapped low on his waist and drops of water trickling down his tanned skin, when a rattling sound came somewhere behind his back. Harry turned around and found the vanity _shaking_ ; he didn’t think badly this time, maybe it was excited to have a new home?

He dried himself before Summoning his glasses and dropped the towel on the floor; the mirror fogged.

“Are you… are you _blushing?_ ” It fogged even more until there where drops rolling down its surface. “You _are_ … because I’m _naked_. This is so strange; and I’ve seen some weird shit in my life, believe me.”

He proceeded to change into clean clothes—black trousers and a red v-neck shirt—and style his hair in the mirror so it would look slightly more fashionable—or at least presentable.

“All set for my date tonight,” Harry said, smoothing down his shirt.

Something snapped and the mirror shattered into pieces, making Harry jump and trip with the little chair that came with the sodding furniture thing.

“Fucking hell! What the _fuck_ is wrong with this thing?” Harry huffed, annoyed. _“Reparo.”_

The pieces of glass flew back to their place, looking as good as new. Harry was determined to do some research on magical objects, but then he checked the time and realized he was running a couple of minutes late; it would have to wait until tomorrow.

 

* * *

 

Harry laughed as he stumbled out of his Floo, arm in arm with a tall, blond man who looked around the empty place.

“Just moved in, eh?” the man asked. “Could use a little sofa.”

Harry fisted the man’s shirt and pulled him closer, kissing him almost desperately and rubbing his already hard cock against him.

“I didn’t bring you here to give me décor advice, Paul,” Harry mumbled against his lips. “My bed is the only thing you need to look forward to.”

He walked him to his bedroom, struggling with the buttons on Paul’s shirt and unbuckling his belt.

“Eager, are we?” Paul said, smirking.

A moan was all the answer Harry gave him as they reached the foot of the bed; Harry sucked at Paul’s neck and collarbone as he wandlessly Vanished his own clothes, when a rattling sound came from his back and Paul let out a sharp _“ow!”._

“What’s wrong?”

Paul raised a hand to the back of his head and winced. Harry looked around and saw one of his heavy dildos on the floor—which he had put away in one of the vanity’s drawers—but there was nobody around. Maybe he’d lost control of his magic in his desperate need to get fucked after two months without sex.

“Harry, what the fuck was that?”

“Nothing,” Harry said, quickly kissing him again and undoing his flies. “Nothing, Paul. Just – just get me in bed.”

Harry pulled his trousers down along with his pants and swallowed hard at the sight; Harry was so horny he _ached_ for it. He laid on his bed, stroking his cock and waiting for his lover to lose the rest of his offending clothing. Paul was shrugging his shirt off when something hit him in the back of his knees and he let out a howl of pain.

“What -”

The little chair of the vanity was tipped on its side, right behind Paul.

“Alright, to hell with this,” he said, pulling his trousers back up and walking out of the room. “This fucking place is haunted, Harry, and I don’t mess with that kind of shit. Bye.”

“Wha- _no!_ Paul, wait!”

Harry was about to follow, but gave up as he heard the Floo roaring. He turned to the suspiciously looking mirror and stomped to stand in front of it, his still hard cock dangling between his legs

“Vanity, what the _fucking blazes!?_ ” he shouted. “I’m going to have to wank again, you stupid piece of wood! What is your _bloody_ problem?”

Great, now he was rowing with the damn thing and – oh, fan- _fucking_ -tastic, it hung its mirror as if it was _sad_ ; Harry sighed and prayed to Merlin he could muster some patience because this was just ridiculous.

“Alright mate, listen. If you want to stay here you can’t just throw things at people, that’s rude.” Harry put his hands on his hips and raised his eyebrows, waiting for a response that never came; stubborn little fuck.

Harry headed to the shower, he needed a cold bath now. And a wank, he desperately needed a wank.

 

* * *

 

“Hm. Sounds like this vanity of yours has a sort of personality.”

“Yeah, I gathered that much, Hermione. Bitchy, dramatic…” Harry said and sipped his tea. “I just want to keep it happy so it won’t scare my dates away.”

“You could go to your date’s place, you know?”

“I will not let a bloody vanity determine who can or cannot fuck my arse in my own flat, Hermione,” Harry said, scowling. “My balls hurt, okay, all the fucking time and I just -”

 _“Shut up!,”_ she hissed, frantically looking around the café, checking that no one was listening in on their conversation.

“ _Fine_. It had to pick up its personality from somewhere, Harry. Maybe if you find out who the previous owner is, you can ask them for tips?”

“The donor was anonymous, Hermione. I don’t think I can get that information from the folks in the charity.”

“Of course you can; you’re the Chosen One, are you not?” She smirked.

 

* * *

 

“Hi, babe. I was wondering if you could do me favor,” Harry said, displaying his most charming smile to the receptionist.

“Er, yes. Of course Mr. Potter, what can I do for you?” Harry had never seen anybody blush as much as she did; he felt a bit guilty, but he was desperate.

Fifteen minutes later, Harry was siting on the sidewalk outside the building of the charity, reading the small note in his hand over and over again; his jaw slacked.

_Malfoy Manor. Wiltshire, England._

“I – I have _Narcissa Malfoy’s vanity_.”

 

* * *

 

Harry stood outside the gates of the mansion as a tiny house-elf Apparated and squeaked at the sight of him.

“Harry Potter, sir. What can Flip-Flop do for you, sir?”

Harrys eyebrows furrowed and he bit down a smile because _Flip-Flop?_ Really?

“Erm.” He cleared his throat. “Yes, F-Flip-Flop I’d like to speak with Mrs. Malfoy.”

“Of course, Harry Potter, sir. Anything, sir.”

She opened the gates and Harry followed her to one of the gardens. Narcissa Malfoy was sitting on a chair before a small table, sipping tea; her eyes showed the faintest flicker of surprise when she spotted Harry walking toward her.

“Mistress,” the elf said with a deep reverence. “Harry Potter is here.”

“I can see that. Thank you Flip-Flop, you may leave.” She waved a dismissive hand to her and gestured Harry to take a seat. “What can I do for you, Mr. Potter?”

“I, er. Well, I guess I should apologize first Mrs. Malfoy; I know it’s against the rules to do this, but, I mean I’m Harry Potter, what even are rules, right?” Narcissa merely raised an eyebrow, but other than that remained expressionless. “So, I came here to ask about the vanity you donated for the auction. I bought it and, well, I’ve been having some issues with it. You see, I brought a date home one night and Van just _flipped_ , Mrs. Malfoy. I'm telling you, it lost its shit.”

“I -”

“It threw a – one of my _belongings_ at my date and a bloody _chair_ , Mrs. Malfoy. I haven't had sex for nearly three months, okay?”

“Mr. Potter -”

“I know, I know. I don’t mean to be rude, but what do I have to do, Mrs. Malfoy? How do I make it happy? Do I have to say nice things to Van?”

“Van? Potter, I don’t -”

“Van wants me to brush my hair everyday doesn’t it? I mean I can do that but my hair won't budge, will it get angry?"

"Mr. Potter!"

"And why is it so fucking jealous? I mean, sheesh!"

"HARRY, THE VANITY ISN'T MINE, IT'S DRACO'S.” She covered her mouth, stunned by her loss of control.

Harry’s jaw fell open, he was utterly _flabbergasted_. He slowly stood up from his seat and gave her a curt nod.

“I – I’m very sorry for this, Mrs. Malfoy. I – I have to go now.”

Harry turned around without waiting for an answer and, as soon as he was out of sight, ran to the gates so he could Apparate to his flat. Once he did, his feet led him to his bedroom and he sat on the little chair in front of the vanity.

This had been Malfoy’s vanity, this was where he sat and applied all those hair potions to make it look so shiny and so... silky. Malfoy looked at himself _naked_ in this mirror.

A distant memory flashed through Harry’s eyes: he’d entered the Quidditch locker room and Malfoy had been standing, shirtless, sweaty, hair dishevelled after practice.

 _‘Like what you see, Potty?’_ the git had said with a stupid smirk.

 _‘Fuck you, Malfoy,’_ was the only thing Harry could answer.

No. Harry shook the thought away because he absolutely had _not_ wanked over the ferret in the shower that day, he was _not_ currently thinking about Malfoy’s pale skin and sharp edges and he was, most certainly, _not_ sporting a massive boner.

“Hold the phone,” he said, looking at his reflection. “If you got your personality from Malfoy, then why did you get angry when I brought Paul?”

The mirror fogged.

“Van?” Harry raised an inquiring eyebrow. “Is there something you’d like me to know?”

A soft click came from the jammed drawer and it opened slowly by itself, revealing the single object it contained: a small book with a brown leather cover. Harry picked it up and opened it by the middle; a newspaper clip fell to the floor, Harry saw it was a picture of himself on a broom. He had to admit his arse looked rather fantastic there.

 

_“Dear fucking diary:_

_Harry sodding Potter, with his stupid hair getting stupider with the wind, his stupid scar that goes all the way down to his eyebrow and making him look so fucking hot. The git keeps getting fitter and fitter. Is the Prophet doing it on purpose? Publishing these pictures so I keep having wet dreams? (The latest of which Potter and I were frotting in the Hogwarts locker room after Quidditch practice, mind you)_

 

  
Harry swallowed hard, imagining Malfoy’s dream… imagining Malfoy’s hard-on as he dreamt it.

“Fuck… I want Draco Malfoy,” Harry whispered.

 

_I don't know what to do, diary. He fucking HATES me. I mean he tried to kill me at least once and I know I was an arsehole to him and his friends, but I want him so much, diary. So much it physically hurts."_

 

That was it, Harry was getting his man. He showered, shaved and chose his most arse-hugging trousers and the green shirt that highlighted his eyes. He didn’t bother styling his hair, he suspected Malfoy would like it best that way; Harry stood in front of Van and checked his appearance.

“Well?” he said, turning around to give it a better view. The glass of the mirror _melted_.

“I take it I look good, then.” Harry grinned and repared the glass; he closed his eyes and immediately Apparated outside Malfoy’s apothecary in Diagon Alley.

He entered the shop and spotted Malfoy’s platinum blond hair; he had his back to the entrance and was speaking to a couple of costumers. Harry wandered through the shop, careful to keep himself out of Malfoy’s sight and simultaneously checking him out—his arse looked as delicious as it did back in Hogwarts—until the customers left and he sneaked up behind Malfoy’s back as he wrote notes on a parchment.

“Hello there,” Harry whispered very closely. “I’d like a batch of, erm… Moonseed, please.”

Harry had no idea what it was, but he’d heard Slughorn mention it at some point and it was the first thing that came into his mind.

Malfoy snorted softly, he didn’t seem to recognize who was talking to him.

“Are you trying to _kill_ a whole village? Because that’s what you’ll get with whatev-” He turned around and froze as he realized it was Harry standing a few inches away from him. “P-Potter.”

Harry smiled charmingly as he noticed Malfoy’s eyes staring at his lips; Harry licked and bit them, trying his best to rile Malfoy up.

“M-Moonseed is one of the strongest poison ingredients, Potter,” he said, his eyes flickering up to Harry’s.

“I was never good at Potions, maybe you could help me by _stirring_ my _hot cauldron_ with your _long wand_.” Harry winked and took a step closer, he could feel Malfoy’s breath ghosting his lips as he scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“That was _lame_ , Potter.”

Harry ignored him and got even closer.

“So,  _Draco_ ,” Malfoy bit his lips and Harry could swear he heard a small whimper. “What are you doing next Saturday?”

“I – I have an appointment, actually. Very important one.” Harry sagged a little. “But I can close the shop right now if it’s urgent.”

“Oh, yes. It is, _Draco_.” Harry was entranced by the slight bobbing of Draco throat. “ _So_ very urgent.”

The door of the shop opened an inch and Draco closed it shut and flipped the ‘closed’ sign with a swift movement of his hand; Harry’s cock fattened at the display of wandless magic. He closed the distance between them and kissed Draco rough and passionate; Harry moaned when he was kissed back with the same intensity and felt Draco’s elegant hands gripping handfuls of his hair. They flushed their bodies together and rubbed their covered cocks hard, fast, desperate; their mouths sucking, licking and biting. Harry’s movements soon became erratic as he climaxed and spilled inside his pants.

“ _Fuck_ , Harry. Did you just -” Draco gasped at Harry’s nod. _“Nnnggh – fuck!”_

Harry trailed soft kisses down his jaw and neck as Draco bucked his hips, riding the aftershocks of his orgasm on Harry’s hip bone.

“ _Shit_. What are we, Potter? Fucking teenagers?”

Harry snickered, nibbling Draco’s collarbone. He certainly felt like one as his cock started getting hard again.

“Hold tight,” he said, and Apparated back to his flat, straight to his bedroom.

They kissed again, slower this time. Harry’s hands roamed down Draco’s back and settled on his sweet, round, firm arse and Merlin _fuck_ , it was the most perfect thing Harry had ever laid hands on. He wanted Draco, to explore every inch of his smooth skin, from the soles of his feet to the tips of his hair; he wanted Draco in any and every possible way.

“Harry, what the fuck is my – I mean, where did you get that vanity?”

Harry looked back at Van and he laughed softly, it was giving little jumps of excitement; Harry Vanished his and Draco’s clothes.

“I’ll explain later, love,” Harry said, reveling on the flare of lust that flashed through Draco eyes. “We have other things to discuss right now.”


End file.
